


Do Not Go Gentle

by fiveainley_ohmy



Category: Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: Funeral, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-05
Updated: 2018-03-05
Packaged: 2019-03-26 20:53:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,262
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13865814
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fiveainley_ohmy/pseuds/fiveainley_ohmy
Summary: Jim and Spock say goodbye to a dear friend. In honor of Dee, our Trekkie sister who’s left us to join the stars.





	Do Not Go Gentle

**Author's Note:**

  * For [the_premise](https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_premise/gifts).



> Dee, I know you’ll never read this, but I hope you know how much we all treasured the short time we had with you. The history you shared, the wisdom you imparted, the love you gave. I cherish our little conversations, how you always asked about my grandma, the story of how you met your true love, and how you left kind comments on my stories. I hope now that you’re with your husband, and maybe Leonard Nimoy and James Doohan and Freddie Mercury too. :) Love you dearly. *blows a kiss toward space* -Catie

It shouldn’t have been surprising, but it was still a nasty shock when they received the news.

Bones had passed.

Jim, stricken, dropped the PADD on the floor of their San Francisco apartment’s living room. Spock, like a flash, was at his side, one arm around his shoulders, one gripping him by the wrist. _Breathe, beloved._

Jim took in a harsh, shaky swallow of breath. “What was the last thing I said to him?” he asked, terrified

Spock already knew everything from the bond. “Most likely, ‘see you later’,” he replied in a grounded tone.

”That’s _it?!_ ” Jim squeaked. “That’s so mundane, so, so-so-so...” He shuddered, tears coming upon him. “Fuck. _Fuck_.”

”Jim.”

”Should’ve said...I should’ve-“

” _Jim_.” Spock’s voice got through to Jim. “You mustn’t do this. You could not have possibly known.”

That was not entirely true. Bones was a _very_ old man of 143. When asked about the secret to his longevity, the old country doctor had responded smarmily, “Glass of whiskey a day. Keeps ya young and beautiful, like me.” Nevertheless, no one could possibly expect the man to keep living on for much longer. As he would’ve said himself, he was a doctor, not an immortal.

Jim sniffled hard. “Oh god, I know I’m being illogical, but dammit, I...”

”Am human?” Spock finished for him.

Jim nodded miserably. “I suppose death never seems sudden to a Vulcan.”

Spock shook his head. “Not true. My mother’s death was sudden. My childhood pet I-Chaya’s death was sudden. Death is always sudden, no matter how anticipated.”

Jim sobbed, burying his face in Spock’s shoulder. Sometimes his bondmate felt like the only solid thing in the universe. Especially right now.

* * *

 _Bones would’ve hated this,_ Jim mused to himself.

There were easily 3,000 at this funeral. The admiral had been greatly admired by Starfleet, but all Bones would’ve cared about was his family and close friends being there: Johanna and her little boy, Jim and Spock, Christine, M’Benga, Nyota, Scotty, Pavel, and Hikaru. But Starfleet, being Starfleet, had to roll out all the ancillary pomp and circumstance for such a venerated old salt. Most of these people had probably never even met Bones.

Spock stepped to the podium, having been chosen as the head eulogist. Jim thought it was a good call on Starfleet’s part. Spock had been close to Bones, like Jim, but wouldn’t get choked up during the speech. Plus he had a very eloquent way with words, whereas Jim would probably hem and haw his way through the speech.

Spock looked out at the sea of mourners briefly, collecting his thoughts, then began to speak.

”The deceased and I have never exactly seen eye to eye.”

A soft bout of bittersweet laughter rippled through those who had known Bones and Spock personally.

”But it is fascinating—a term I am sure the late Doctor McCoy would scoff at—how much our cultures, our backgrounds, had in common at their core. You see, on Vulcan, we believe in the katra: the living essence of a person. The people of Earth have a similar concept known as a soul. Vulcan has no declared religion, but we do have a spiritual philosophy—that when we pass on, our katras disconnect with our mortal coils and join those who have passed before us—our cherished friends and family. Humans too have several different concepts of an afterlife. Knowing Leonard McCoy for the good man he was...it is only logical to assume that he is in a place of peace and happiness. It is only fitting such a caliber of man. And I believe the good doctor would agree with me on this contention.”

Everyone in the room clapped politely as Spock stepped down, sniffles echoing through the room. Jim touched his hand as he sat down beside Jim. “That was beautiful, sweetheart,” he said tearfully.

After the service, most left, but those who had truly loved Bones stayed behind to console each other. Jim and Spock made their way over to Johanna. Jim hugged her tightly. “So sorry for your loss,” he murmured.

”You too,” nodded Johanna, her eyes red and puffy. “Mister Spock, that was a lovely speech. Dad would’ve loved it.”

”I believe he would have fondly cajoled me for it, but I appreciate the sentiment nonetheless.”

Johanna laughed weakly. “I appreciate you two being here for me. Dad loved you guys like brothers, you know.”

”So do we,” Jim smiled. “And you know, the ones we love never really leave us. It’s corny, but it’s true.”

”Admirals. Miss McCoy.” Admiral Nogura has appeared behind them. A man in a suit was with her. He was holding in his hands a simple pewter urn. “This is Jackson Lang. He was Doctor McCoy’s lawyer. He wants to speak with you about the deceased’s final wishes.”

Jim winced at the term _deceased_.

”Hi, Mister Lang,” said Johanna. She already knew him. “I guess this about my dad’s final resting place.”

”Yes, Miss McCoy,” said Lang. He looked at Jim and Spock. “As Doctor McCoy’s daughter already knows, the deceased wished for his ashes to be scattered at his family home in Georgia. He requested that his daughter and the two of you carry out the dispersing of the ashes.”

Jim nodded, choked up. “Of course.”

”It would be an honor,” Spock added, taking the urn from the lawyer.

* * *

They arrived on the McCoy family plantation and walked out to the small vegetable patch behind the house. “My dad loved working out here,” Johanna told them. “When I was a little girl, before my parents split, he and I would garden out here together every spring.”

”That’s sweet,” Jim smiled.

Johanna stepped in front a plot. “Here. The rutabagas were his favorite.” She opened the urn and looked at the men. “Anything to say?”

Jim nodded, tearing up again. “I do.” He took in a shaky breath.

”Bones, my old friend, I can’t believe this day’s finally come. We knew it would someday, of course, but...sometimes I really fooled myself into thinking we’d live forever. You’re my oldest friend, and yet, somehow, it felt so fleeting. It wasn’t long enough, dammit.

”I can’t tell you how much you mean to me. The support you gave me, the wisdom, the laughs...so many nights getting drunk with me while I lamented about being too much of a chicken to tell Spock I love him.” Jim chuckled softly, giving his husband’s hand a squeeze. “When you died, the first thing I thought of was, ‘what was the last thing I said to you?’ It was the most ordinary day in the world. But if I’d known it would be the last...I guess in the end, I have nothing much to say except...I love you. And thank you.” Jim touched the urn gently. “For all the time we got together...thank you. I know you fought as long as you could. You never were one to go gently into that good night. Well, Bones, you can keep up the fight, by watching over all of us, like I know you will...like you always have. Goodbye, Bones.” Unable to hold it together any longer, Jim turned away and started crying into Spock’s shoulder. The Vulcan wrapped his arms around the human, stroking his greying curls tenderly.

With a deep breath, Johanna turned back to the garden and scattered the ashes over the bed. “Bye, Dad,” she said tearfully.

The three of them stood there for some time. It was very, very quiet.


End file.
